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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25119601">In Another Life</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/minimalistdreamer/pseuds/minimalistdreamer'>minimalistdreamer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Quarantine Fics [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Criminal Minds (US TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Spencer Reid, F/F, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Lesbian Emily Prentiss, POV Alternating, POV Third Person</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 03:41:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,312</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25119601</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/minimalistdreamer/pseuds/minimalistdreamer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hi," she said. "I'm Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, JJ if you'd like." She stuck out a hand for him to shake.</p><p>"Oh, I'm sorry-" he stammered. "I don't really do handshakes, it's kind of a germ thing."</p><p>Agent Jareau nodded, dropping her hand. "You're Dr. Reid - right?"</p><p>He gave a small smile, leaning back in his chair. "You are right."</p><p>"Nice to meet you Agent Jareau-"</p><p>"JJ,"  she interrupted.</p><p>"Hm?" </p><p>"You can call me JJ, we're probably going to be talking a lot because I'm the Unit Liason. It'd be easier for you to just call me JJ."</p><p>"Okay then, JJ." Spencer smiled at her and she smiled back.</p><p>--</p><p>Or: What if the writers added a romantic subplot for JJ and Spencer?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Morgan &amp; Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss &amp; Spencer Reid, Emily Prentiss/Original Female Character(s), Jennifer "JJ" Jareau/Spencer Reid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Quarantine Fics [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1842442</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Author's Note</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Hello! Minimalistdreamer here.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>I know that JJ x Spencer Reid does not have a large support group within the Criminal Minds fandom, but I love it so I thought: why not write about it?</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>In this book, I'm planning on going over every episode (maybe some extras) if there was a JJ x Spencer Reid romantic subplot. This is because I just finished binging the fifteen seasons of Criminal Minds and felt <em>robbed. </em>They did us so dirty in the last season. </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Okay, so here are some things to know. I am planning on having 15 "arcs." These arcs are basically the 15 seasons.</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>In this, I will be adding a Bi Spener Reid and Lesbian Emily because once more, we were <em>robbed. </em></strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>There will be no explicit smut in this. I don’t hate on anyone for writing it, but I am uncomfortable writing and reading smut for characters who are played by actual people. Also, I’m asexual so I honestly have no idea what’s sexually attractive, so if I did write smut - it would absolutely terrible. </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Also, this will story will be extremely slow-burned. Like, I have it all mapped out and holy cow - do not commit yourself to this unless you are ready to scream and cry for them to get together already and die of blue balls because they smile and hold hands in chapter 67 or something. This is because I'm trying to make it realistic. If Jeid did become an item, I don't think they would have had them together for most of the show. Also, I'm adding Maeve and Cat, and for those to work, I need to have a certain timeline. </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>If you have any questions or suggestions, please do not hesitate to comment. </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>I hope you enjoy the story!!</strong>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>- season (arc) 1 begins july 20th - </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Compulsion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When a college campus is terrorized by a serial arsonist, the team attempts to identify the firestarter before he strikes again.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome to the first episode of "In Another Life!" I hope you like it. :)</p><p>**the plot of the story: In Another Life is not my property, intellectual or physical. It is the property of Jeff Davis and/or ABC and CBS.**</p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>They met a month before the bombing. She walked up to his desk and slapped a rather large case file right next to his mini-chessboard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hi," she said. "I'm Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, JJ if you'd like." She stuck out a hand for him to shake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, I'm sorry-" he stammered. "I don't really do handshakes, it's kind of a germ thing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Agent Jareau nodded, dropping her hand. "You're Dr. Reid - right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave a small smile, leaning back in his chair and nodded. "Nice to meet you Agent Jareau-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"JJ,"  she interrupted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hm?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You can call me JJ, we're probably going to be talking a lot because I'm the Unit Liason. It'd be easier for you to just call me JJ."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay then, JJ." Spencer smiled at her and she smiled back.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Elle Greenaway joined around a week after Gideon came back to the team. They were discussing the Footpath Killer's stutter when JJ came barreling in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay. I'm up for a challenge," Elle said as she leaned against her desk. She looked like the woman who would be up for a challenge. Morgan just smirked at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good," JJ walked over holding a large stack of files. "because these go to you." She slammed the files right next to Elle's hand. Spencer noticed the distinct lack of a wedding band around her left ring finger. Strange, he mused to himself. JJ seemed like the type of person who would want to get married quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Special Agent Jennifer Jareau, JJ if you'd like." JJ introduced herself in the same way she did to Spencer. It was probably something that she had to do a lot, as she was still new to the Bureau. She stuck out a hand for Elle to shake, and unlike Spencer, Elle shook it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Elle-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Greenaway," JJ finished. "Highest number of solved cases in Seattle three years running, specialty in sex offender cases." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not bad," Elle observed, obviously frazzled by JJ's unique way of scrounging up any and all relevant info about a new agent. Spencer saw her go to Penelope Garcia's office earlier that week, probably to prepare for Elle's arrival. JJ was not a profiler, so she was unable to see the way that Elle's eyes roamed over to Spencer's and Morgan's - not liking being researched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, I'm the Unit Liason so my specialty is untying bureaucratic knots," JJ started walking back to her office as she spoke. Spencer's eyes followed her before turning back to Elle, seeing how the new agent start flipping through the new files. "You'll probably be talking to me a lot. My door's always open - mostly because I'm never in my office. So just call me on my cell, okay? We'll talk." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer looked back from where he was watching JJ ramble to Morgan, who looked very amused by JJ's rambling. She had a habit of occupying everyone's attention, Spencer believed. That's why she was always in charge of press conferences. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"BAU team can you meet me in the conference room, please?" Hotch's voice sounded from steps. He walked over to the said room as he spoke. "I need to show you something." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgan, Elle, and he all stood and followed the other two into the room.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“This is from the Phoenix Office. Bradshaw college in Temple, six fires in seven months.” Hotch said as everyone sat down, their elbows knocking together while flipping through the case files. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who recorded it?” Gideon asked, referring to the video that was paused on the screen, waiting to play. Spencer knew what was there already, he had just read the case file. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A student with a digital camcorder,” JJ answered. “He was watching a fire in building across from their dorm. The other person you’ll see if his roommate, 20--year-old Matthew Rowland.” She picked up the remote that was lying on the round table and hit play</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey, this is crazy-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The video played, confirming what Spencer had just read. Students saw the fire across the street, video-recorded it, and then accidentally got a video of a student burning to death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that him?” Gideon asked when Matthew Rowland came on camera. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer readjusted himself in his seat, trying to get a better look at what was happening.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dude, over here. Check this out,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Matthew Rowland had said. Spencer watched as a liquid seeped under the door, getting all over Matthew’s shoes. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, God!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Matthew, or maybe his roommate, screamed as Matthew was lit on fire. Spencer didn’t even have to turn around to feel how JJ cringed, her mouth contorted into an ugly frown. She was new, fresh out of the academy. Spencer had arrived a few months before her, and Elle transferred from Seattle. She was the only one who still wasn’t used to the violent and terrible crimes that people committed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer thought that was a good thing, to have to look away from a man burning to death. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are two common stressors for serial arsonists,” Spencer said as he organized his chessboard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Loss of job, loss of love,” Elle supplied the rest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When was the first fire set?” Morgan asked, pulling up an online calendar on his computer. Spencer preferred the real thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“March. Uh, the next one was in May, and the third one wasn’t until September…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They continued to discuss who the profile could apply to and  Spencer continuing to make moves on his chessboard.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>"Arsonists are socially incompetent," said Elle as she and Spencer were discussing the equipment used to enact the fire. He fiddled with said equipment as she stood off to his right. "This guy, he doesn't go on dates. He doesn't go to parties. He doesn't feel comfortable in front of groups."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer stared at her for a minute before she realized what she had said. He didn't need it to be rubbed in that he was an introverted, loner, genius. Who cared if he didn't have any romantic pursuits at the time? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And of course he's a total psychopath."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course," Spencer blew air out of his nose as he spoke, a minuscule laugh. He looked back at the equipment.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>"So," JJ sat across from Spencer in the bureau's kitchen. "How'd you figure it out?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Figure what out?" he asked. He held his cup of coffee - or sludge if he could be so truthful - in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How'd you figure out about the OCD?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You really want me to explain it to you?" he huffed out a laugh, a large one. JJ just grinned at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, I do, Spence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Spence," he tested out the nickname. "That's a new one."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What, you've never been called Spence before, not even by friends in high school?" she asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was 12 in senior year, you think very highly of me if you think that I had friends then." JJ laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well you do now," she said. "Now explain."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," said 'Spence.' If you asked him, it was kinda nice - having a nickname. He could see how JJ liked being called that. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know this is a bit short, as it was a way to get myself in the rhythm of writing like this and for you all to get a feel for my writing style. I'm planning on posting once a week, every Monday. I hope to be posting at the same time every week - to make it seem more like 'episodes' being premiered. The next chapter will be longer.</p><p>Have a great rest of your week!</p><p>Any suggestion, no matter how small or criticizing - is helpful.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Won't Get Fooled Again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gideon and his team track down a copycat bomber terrorizing a quiet community.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>A man sat in his car, staring across the street. The radio played while he watched, but he wasn’t listening to the weather reports. No, he was waiting, waiting for the person who caused him all his troubles to appear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned off his radio when the man appeared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man was carrying a cardboard box to his car. He got out and called out for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clurman!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clurman set the box on top of his car, turning to look at the other man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you return my calls, Gil?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, give me a break, Joe.” Gil sighed. “I’m late for a meeting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I left messages on every line,” Joe didn’t let Gil leave, wanting answers. “I even talked to your assistant.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, I’ve been really busy, ok?” Gil said, “We have a meeting tomorrow, we’ll talk then, ok?” Gil attempted to open his car door, but Joe placed his hand against it, preventing it from opening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right, we will. If you blow me off again, it’s gonna get ugly,” Joe threatened. “And I won’t be so understanding next time.” Joe turned around and left, walking back to his own car.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, an explosion threw Joe forward. He could faintly hear Gil’s screams over the ringing in his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, he planted his hands underneath him and rose enough to sit. He turned, the ringing not fading, but the screams still loud enough to hear them. He turned and saw Gil on his stomach, his car on fire behind him. He screamed in pain, reaching out for Joe.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Clurman’s was the second bombing this morning, both in residential neighborhoods in Palm Beach,” Hotch explained to Gideon. They were walking down a 6th-floor hallway, heading to the BAU bullpen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Homeland Security been notified?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And ATF,” Hotch confirmed. “In addition to a profile, they want a threat assessment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is the media onto it?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, JJ’s keeping tabs on that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do we know about the bombs?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morgan hooked up with ATF,” Hotch said. “They’re sending pictures of bomb fragments as they find them.” Hotch opened a door for another agent to exit before entering himself. Gideon used the other door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer sat at the round table, numerous pictures of the bombs littered before him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gideon and Morgan spoke about the bombs, standing around the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s the same activation for both bombs,” said Morgan, holding a cup of coffee. “Mercury-activated.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does that mean?” Elle asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are contacts to a detonator on either side of a bent tube full of mercury,” Spencer explained to her, pointing to certain parts of the bomb picture for reference.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That means all you have to do is tilt the package to detonate it,” said Morgan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So that means they couldn’t have been sent through the mail,” Elle looked up, holding a pad of paper and pen. “The bomber had to deliver them himself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Strange way to commit an act of terrorism,” Hotch observed. “Why go through all this trouble to kill just a few people?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s recommend not raising the terror alert level for now,” said Gideon. “No reason to spread panic.” Morgan and Hotch nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>JJ entered, holding a remote. “We got news.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer leaned back on his chair, intertwining his fingers on his lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just a local channel,” JJ said, the TV buzzing to life. “But the coverage is everywhere now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A reporter came on screen. Spencer leaned forward, his elbows on the table, trying to see the TV around Elle and JJ. JJ was standing with her hand on the chair across form him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“CNN, Fox, MSNBC, Al Jazeera, you name it,” she explained, turning to watch the program herself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So much for not spreading panic,” said Hotch.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“According to doctors, he’s badly injured, but in a stable condition in the ICU,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>the reporter said. She was standing in front of where the bomb exploded. Spencer could still see ambulances and firefighters in the background. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Now, neighbors say they heard a blast as about 10:30 this morning, and police arrived..” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“If DHS doesn’t raise the terror alert now,” Gideon spoke over the reporter. “They’ll look weak.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make sure Homeland Security knows that this is everywhere,” Hotch instructed. JJ nodded, turning to exit when suddenly there was an explosion behind the reporter on the TV. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I just felt that,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>the reporter said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you alright?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she asked someone off-camera. Gideon moved closer to the screen. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Is everyone alright?”</span>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Bombings accrued within three miles of each other,” Hotch said as he handed out information on the victims on the jet. “First victim was a 74-year-old widow, Barbara Keller. Two hours after that, Clurman got hit in his driveway, and 45 minutes later… well, we all saw that.” He sat down across from Gideon. “Jill Swenson, 34-year-old housewife who lived across the street from Clurman. Of the 3, only Clurman survived.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>JJ looked up from where she was making coffee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is there any connection between the three victims?” Spencer asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One,” Hotch answered. “Clurman was a partner in a $10-million condo development deal in which Keller was an investor, and a few weeks ago - the whole deal went bust.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Went bust how?” Elle asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geologists discovered that the land was on methane, the condos never got built, the land became worthless, and Clurman lost a lot of people and a lot of money.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer raised his eyebrows. “So maybe one of them was mad enough to take an aim at Clurman,” he suggested. JJ went and sat down, handing Spencer a cup of coffee. Lots of sugar, just how he liked it. She was on the phone, listening to whatever the other person had to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said Gideon. “It’s a little too early to theorize about motive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>JJ hung up the phone, staying silent and simply sipping at her coffee. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then where do we start?” Elle asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“From the beginning,” said Gideon. “What do we know about bombers?” Spencer swallowed his mouthful of coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mostly male, loners, history of criminal activity,” he informed. “About 50% of all bombings are actually the product of vandalism.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And more often than not, bombers end up accidentally blowing themselves up, so the first suspect you’d look at in the bombing case is the victims.” Hotch finished. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clurman was the only male,” said Elle. “Losing a large business deal like that, it could be a powerful stressor.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span> Gideon dropped his fingers from his mouth, grabbing the picture of Clurman’s car in front of him. “Well, then there is the crime scene,” he said. “Clurman was the only one who didn’t get hit at his door. Why? What was different about this one?”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t it go off until he got to his car?” Spencer asked at the crime scene. He had his hands shoved in his pockets and sunglasses on to compact against the setting sun. “It’s like 50 feet away from his door.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joe Reese, one of Clurman’s investors was here before the bomb went off,” said Hotch who was also wearing sunglasses. “The cops have ruled him out as a suspect, but he said he saw Clurman get in the car with the package.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So maybe Clurman wasn’t receiving a bomb at all,” suggested Elle. “Maybe he was on his way to delivering one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But he drops it or tilts it,” said Spencer. “And it goes off by accident.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d like to talk to Clurman,” Gideon said. He looked at the Clurman’s house as he spoke. “In the meantime, let’s get a warrant to search his house.” He walked off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer stepped forward, looking inside the burnt car, stooping low to see what was inside.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“What can you tell us about the package, Mr. Clurman?” Gideon asked. He stood leaning over the bedridden man, trying to appear strong, confident. To see how the other man would react. To see if he would be submissive or try to be the alpha of the situation. Spencer stood behind Gideon, watching from afar. His hands were still shoved in his pockets and he rocked forward onto his toes before falling back on his heels.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “I thought I knew what it was,” said Clurman. “A pot for an orchid. I collect them.” His eyes weren’t even open when he spoke. “I ordered the pot through the mail.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you take it inside?” Gideon asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was for my office, I was going there anyway. Though I’d take it with me. That’s the last thing I remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer looked up, his brow slightly furrowed. He crossed his arms as he continued to watch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You had an argument with Joe Reese,” Gideon told Clurman. “Do you remember that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joe was there?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was angry, he accused you of blowin’ him off.” Clurman gave an unintelligible grunt for a response. “Any reason he’d want to hurt you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Joe? No. I mean, he’s a confrontational guy, but if he wanted to kill me, he’d just beat me to death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gideon gave a quick smile, from what Clurman had just said about Joe or the fact that Joe could be cleared as a suspect, Spencer didn’t know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clurman gave a gasp, probably due to pain, but Gideon pressed on - back to his usual self.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A lot of people were angry about that deal falling apart, and they were angry at you,” he said. “I don’t know, how did it make you feel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I felt awful,” said Clurman. “I thought those condos would make a lot of money for a lot of people, myself included.” He coughed. “I thought that geologist was legit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer looked over, his interest piqued. “He didn’t even take samples. He scammed us,” Clurman said. “All those investors who lost their money… Barbara,” he gasped the name at the end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Barbara Keller?” asked Gideon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The first victim,” Spencer piped in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about her?” Gideon asked Clurman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just a shame, such a nice lady, you know?” he told them. “It was such an easy sale. Sometimes… I felt like I took advantage of her because she’s old and lonely. Now she’s dead. Well… I feel terrible.” he sighed. “Ow!” he suddenly grunted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” Gideon asked. Spencer leaned over, looking over Gideon’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, my foot!” Clurman cried. Spencer looked over, seeing Clurman’s left leg in a cast, cut off below the knee. Phantom pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get you some help,” said Gideon, leaving the room. Spencer stood awkwardly, unsure of what to do with himself.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Spencer stood in front of a laptop, Hotch on his right and Elle on his left. Gideon was on his way left, a few feet away from Elle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morgan emailed these over. The three on the left are the bombs from yesterday.  The one on the right’s from the evidence room at Quantico.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer leaned forward. “They’re all identical,” he observed aloud. “Made with steel reinforcement rods.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Adrian Bale,” Gideon said. Spencer remembered the headline. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shrapnel Blast Kills Six </span>
  </em>
  <span>on the Boston Sentinel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who?” the lead detective, Morrison, asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He held our agents in a standoff in Boston last year,” Hotch explained. “He took out 6 agents and a hostage with one of his bombs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re thinking he’s behind this?” Elle asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Possibly,” said Spencer. “But he’s still in prison. He’s got kind of a cult following, like Charles Manson. It could just be a copycat.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s one way to find out,” said Morrison. “Let’s put the screws to this guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, no.” Gideon set down his bottle of water. “Bale’s too smart. If we want information from him, we have to handle him carefully, and even then you have to assume that road will lead nowhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re saying the connection to Bale doesn’t help us at all?” Morrison asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Gideon shook his head slightly to the left. “I’m just saying let us handle Bale.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, we just heard from local Texas PD,” said Morrison. “You were right about Clurman’s nephew,” he told Elle. “He admitted the bomb stuff was his, which is great for the Clurman's, but it leaves us with zero suspects. So what do you suggest my men do now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Proceed from the profile,” Gideon told him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morrison furrowed his eyebrows, “I didn’t know we had a profile.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>After the profile, JJ exited the office she had taken over.  She walked over to Morrison, cell phone in hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Detective Morrison, how’s it going?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re combing through all the investors in the land deal,” he told her. “Got a couple of suspects who fit the profile. We’re gonna talk to them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>JJ nodded. “Ok, well, if you need anything, just let us know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She walked over to the conference room, where Elle and Hotch were combing through files. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How we doing?” she asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Frustrated,” Elle sighed. “I can’t see why anyone would want to kill a little old lady who collects cats and coins.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unless somebody wanted the coins,” said Hotch. “I spent a good chunk of my childhood looking for a 1944 pennyworth thousands.” He looked up to see Elle’s expression. “Yes, I was a little bit of a nerd. Is that so surprising?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not to me,” said Elle. She looked up to JJ with a smirk and JJ shook her head good-heartedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The telephone rang and Hotch clicked: accept.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morgan?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, I just got the lab results from the powder residues on the bombs,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he said over the phone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Ammonia nitrate, potassium chloride, and aluminum powder.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he sighed </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Nobody uses that mixture Hotch-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nobody but Bale,” Hotch finished.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s right. And the closer I look at these things, the more they’re the same. Same weld pattern, same switch assembly, same thread sizing. It’s weird, man. This guy’s not building bombs, he’s forging them. That’s the other reason I’m calling you. Bale wrote addresses on his packages in block letters with blue ink. I’m thinking our guy’s doing the same.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. I’ll set up a press conference,” JJ said, already typing on her phone. “Make sure the public knows.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Morgan.” Hotch hung up the phone. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“We have new information about the Palm Beach Bomber,” JJ said. She stood at a podium, her hands intertwined on its surface. Cameras from different news stations surrounded her. “In addition to placing the bombs in plain brown packages, </span>
  <em>
    <span>we have reason to believe that the bomber may handwrite the delivery addresses on a plain white label...”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mommy, when’s Daddy coming home?” a little girl asked, sitting at the table and coloring. Her mother continued to put groceries away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s got to get the beach house ready for the next renters,” she told her daughter, closing the fridge door. “He’ll be back tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“...be examined carefully, especially if you don’t recognize the return address.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she continued on screen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you unpacked your suitcase yet?” her mother asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’ll go do it right now,” she said, dropping her crayons and standing up. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“With your help, we should be able to prevent any further casualties. Thank you for your vigilance.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mommy, there’s a present for you.” Her daughter said from the next room over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A present?” she asked. “What does it look like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s brown with blue letters. Can I bring it to you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She remembered what the woman on TV had said, brown packaging with blue letters. She dropped the egg that she was holding, turning, and running to the front door. “No!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her daughter stood on the front porch, holding the package in her hands.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>She was kneeling in front of her daughter when the police arrived. Her daughter was crying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Keep holding on, baby,” she told her. “Just keep holding on, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s heavy!” Her daughter cried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I know, I know. But you’re doing such a good job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok, everything’s gonna be ok.” A detective jogged up, holding a platform in his hands. “Just a few more minutes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hear that?” she said. “We’re almost there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s heavy, I can’t hold it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, you can,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to step back, ma’am,” the detective told her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am not leaving my daughter!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, you need to trust me,” he told her. He turned to her daughter. “Ok, now, sweetie, don’t move, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her daughter cried. “Don’t move, sweetie. I’m gonna come up and meet you”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The detective set the platform under the package, pushing up the top. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re such a good girl,” she said. “Just a few more seconds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t,” her daughter cried. “It’s heavy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re doing great, sweetie,” the detective encouraged. “You’re doing great.” The platform was almost touching the package now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The package was set on top of the platform and her daughter jumped back. She grabbed her daughter and was escorted away from the package.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“I’m going to stay behind to monitor Bale’s mail, calls, any contact that he has with the outside world,” Spencer told Gideon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” Gideon nodded. “Even if he doesn’t know the unsub, he may want to try to contact him.” Gideon left and Spencer turned, walking down the hallway of which he just came. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Office of Supreme Genius Puzzle Solver.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Garica’s voice came over the phone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Do you have a riddle for me?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I found Bale has been accessing the internet by getting around a firewall that’s set up on a prison library computer,” Spencer said. He was walking down a hallway as he spoke. “The guy even has an e-mail address.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Wow, sneaky bastard.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, he’s headed to the library right now, maybe to contact the unsub. Now, is there a way to possibly monitor his keystrokes while he’s online?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I can send him a virus, but he’ll have to open the email for it to work.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What do you want in the subject line?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” he stopped walking, trying to think of something. “Let’s think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Something that’ll make him open it.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah..” he thought for another moment before speaking. “He’s impotent - something that’ll make him feel in control.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I got something,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Spencer could hear her smile over the phone. She wrote in the subject line: </span>
  <span>Sexy willing teen hot for inmate XXX. </span>
  <span>It worked. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You got this guy’s number, he’s visited six porn sites in the past half hour.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything else?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hold on,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>a pause. Then, she spoke again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He’s posting to a message board. </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Naughtyhobbies.net</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she read the URL out loud. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Looks like some sort of site for bomb enthusiasts.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She began to read out what Bale was typing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“ “To all my friends out there, beware, they are onto you.“ “</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“We need the names of everyone who's been on that message board in the past month,” he said. Garcia gave an “okay” and hung up.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“186 e-mails,” Spencer told Gideon over the phone. “Through the ISP, we were able to track down the names and some of the addresses, but none of them were in Palm Beach.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“How about occupations?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t a required field, so really, only about ⅓ of them are filled in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The Unsub takes pride in his work, he would fill it in.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re right,” Spencer looked down, upset that he didn’t realize that sooner. He read through the occupations that they did have. “Let’s see, we have “trucker, physician, antiquities dealer, store owner, orderly…”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Wait,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Gideon interrupted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Antiquities dealer?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Spencer lowered the file. “Why, what is it?”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Hey, Reid,” Hotch said. “Ok, shoot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scribbled down what Reid had said. “David...Walke-” Hotch lowered the phone, realizing that the Walker’s is just where he sent Elle. “I gotta call you back,” he said over the phone and hung up.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>After the case was done, Bale was back in prison. Spencer returned to the bureau to find that only JJ was there,  everyone else already home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he knocked on her office door. “What are you still doing here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>JJ looked up from her file, “I’m just finishing this report for tonight. You?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He yawned, “I’m trying to finish everything I have to before this weekend, Hotch says I can take off on Saturday because my birthday’s next week.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>JJ smiled, “Really?” He nodded. “Happy early birthday then, Spence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laughed, “Thanks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re turning 24, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your favorite type of cake?” she asked. Spencer looked up. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your favorite type of cake?” she repeated. Spencer furrowed his brow, he’s never been asked that before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, chocolate, ” he cleared his throat. “My favorite cake is chocolate.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>JJ nodded, still smiling. “Okay then, chocolate it is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer smiled, a really honest, goofy smile. “Okay,” he said. “Have, uh. Have a good rest of your night.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You too.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer closed the door of her office, turning and walking to his own desk. “Chocolate,” he whispered to himself. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This one is much longer. I'm thinking of doing scenes that have Spencer and/or JJ in them. And of course, the added scenes at the end and/or beginning. Next week is the date!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Plain Sight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gideon and his team must profile a serial rapist and murderer who preys on women in affluent neighborhoods.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is the chapter you all have been waiting for!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“Step up, knee up.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>the woman on the TV said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Step down. Up. One more. 2 Kicks.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She followed the woman in her own bedroom. The kids were away and her husband was out, so she was finally able to get some work-out time in. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Here we go. One more time. Kick, and back. 2 more times like that.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She mouthed the words of a song that was playing in the background, kicking the air. Her forehead was beaded with sweat, but she was energized and she was happy. She looked over to herself in the mirror, smiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened slowly, quietly. He grabbed her before she could scream.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Make a wish,” Elle told Spencer. He was sitting at his desk, a cake in front of him. Elle, Morgan, and JJ were standing around him with Hotch and Gideon off to the side. Morgan had put on the strange birthday cake hat that he insisted that everyone wears on their birthday, yet Spencer has never seen anyone other than him wear it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer blew on his candles, some flickered out, but most of them refused and stayed unaffected. He blew again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, man,” Morgan said. “Blow, baby! Blow!” He did, nothing happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were full of hot air, Reid.” Elle joked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on, Reid!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re trick candles, Spence. Ok?” JJ told him. “They’re gonna come back on every time.” Spencer tried again while Morgan laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” he pulled on Reid’s hat. “Mommy to the rescue.” Spencer furrowed his eyebrows, looking over to Morgan. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Mommy?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“Ignore him,” JJ told him. She started grabbing the candles and putting them on another plate. “Hope you like chocolate.” She knew he did and he gave a small smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer didn’t know what to do while she grabbed the candles, so he just sat there awkwardly. He leaned back a little when Elle stood and started helping her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, look, you blew wax on the cake, man.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer stood, walking back to where Gideon was standing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You having fun?” Gideon asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, definitely. I’m definitely having fun.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Make a wish?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer looked up at his hat, cross-eyed. “Can I take this hat off?” he asked, avoiding the question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gideon looked up, “I wouldn’t.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Spence,” JJ called out. “First piece for the birthday boy.” Spencer looked over to see her holding up a plate of chocolate cake, giving a large smile. He started to turn and walk over, before winding back and leaning down to whisper.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know she’s the only person in the whole world who calls me “Spence?”” He laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spence, get over here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked over, grabbing a piece of cake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgan leaned back against the desk, “JJ, why don’t you feed it to him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry guys,” Hotch said. Spencer looked up, chewing on a piece of cake. “The party’s over.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>JJ followed Hotch, walking into the conference room with a  stack of gruesome photos and case files in her arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to San Diego,” he told everyone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not for the surfing, huh?” Morgan asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re calling him the Tommy Killer,” JJ placed the stack of files on the small round table. “6 women raped and murdered-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In the homes in the last 3 weeks,” Hotch finished for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“6 in 3 weeks?” Elle asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a short fuse,” said Gideon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And getting shorter,” said Hotch. “The first 2 were 8 days apart, then the next 4 in 2 weeks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>JJ handed Spencer a photo of the latest victim. He furrowed his brow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rapid escalation,” he said. “Do you think he’s regressing to a psychopathic frenzy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, he’s too controlled for that,” Hotch said. He stood up, “See you on the plane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why the Tommy Killer?” Morgan asked Hotch as he was leaving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know the Rock Opera?” Hotch asked. “Well, this Unsub glues his victims’ eyes wide open.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>JJ looked up, frowning. Spencer looked back at the photo.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wants them to see him,” he observed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And feel him,” Gideon added.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“Brenda Samms was found yesterday by her children when they got home from school,” Hotch said, walking through the jet. “She had been strangled with a thin ligature, possibly a wire.” He handed a photo of the wound to Elle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No weapon left at the scene,” Elle observed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Residue on the wrist and mouth indicate that duct tape was used and then removed,” said Spencer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Also not found at the scene,” said Hotch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brought it with him, took it with him,” Elle flipped through the pages. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He also started leaving messages at the fourth scene,” Hotch told everyone. He held up a picture of the mirror for Elle.  “This was on the mirrors.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>JJ stood and started walking while Hotch read out the quote.” “Fair lady, throw those costly robes aside. No longer may you glory in your pride. Take leave of all your carnal, vain delight.” “ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>JJ sat across from Spencer. He scooted back, as to not let his knees knock into hers. He tried to think of where the quote could originate from. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ “I’ve come to summon you away this night,” ” he finished. He looked around and explained it. “It’s a ballad from the late 1600s. A dialogue betwixt death and a lady.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A 17th-century ballad?” Elle asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, essentially, a woman begging death to live.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of person knows this ballad?” she asked. “Are we looking for a literature professor?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyone with an internet connection, actually,” Spencer corrected. “You should see what comes in when you type the word “death” in a search engine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Reid, no wonder you can’t get a date,” Morgan said. Spencer gave an awkward smile, unsure of how to respond to that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Reid, you stay on the messages,” Gideon instructed him. “See if there’s a deeper meaning” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgan grabbed a photo from the pile in front of him. “Well, it definitely looks like he ransacked the crime scene pretty well.” He flipped it around, showing it to the rest of the team.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A lot of damage, nothing taken,” said Hotch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The eyes are the thing, the signature,” Gideon told them. “The behavior that isn’t necessary for the murder, but necessary for the emotional release. That’s what he’s there for.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There used to be a widely held belief that the eyes record a snapshot of the last thing a person sees before they die,” Spencer explained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s right,” Morgan confirmed. “People used to write poems about talking to death.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ballads,” Spencer corrected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think they’ll ever run out of new things to do to their victims?” Elle asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, finding new ways to hurt each other is what we’re good at,” said Gideon. Spencer frowned, looking down at his lap.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>They entered the police precinct. Spencer walked, lugging a large and heavy bag to the conference room. JJ entered with Hotch, pausing to introduce themselves to the Captain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain Griffin, Task Force Commander,” he introduced himself to Hotch, shaking his hand. Hotch nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, we all get tunnel vision. I’m Special Agent Hotchner, this is Agent Jareau, our liaison.” JJ shook Griffin’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We appreciate you coming out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, hope we can help.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ “My name is Death. Have you not heard of me? You may as well be mute…” “ Spencer read out the quotes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Creepy, huh?” JJ asked, reading the ballad for the first victim. Spencer looked over before looking back at the ballads. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, uh conversations between Death and his victims was a fairly popular literary and artistic theme throughout, the Renaissance…” He looked up to see JJ staring at him with raised eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Yeah, creepy.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Spencer walked up to Ella and Hotch. “Look like what he’s written at the scenes are most of the first 3 verses of the same ballad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Most of?” Hotch asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Spencer confirmed. “It’s only one part of the conversation. There's no “betwixt.” “ At their silence, Spencer explains. “Uh, Death speaks, but the lady never answers.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe he feels like their bodies are answer enough,” Elle suggests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer stopped Gideon and Morgan as they entered the precinct. “The verses,” he told them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Found something?” Gideon asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, not an answer. A question,” he said. “I found the full text. He’s pretty much following it to a T, at least the Death side of the conversation.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t he leave them at the first 3 murders?” Spencer asked.  “I mean, this ballad is 10 verses long just on the death side - he’s got plenty to work with.” He looked up from the ballad to Gideon. “But if it’s not part of this signature if it isn’t something that he has to do for an emotional reason, then, I mean, why start?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gideon looked over to where JJ was sitting at one of the desks.  “ JJ, find out when the press ran the first story on this unsub.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When?” JJ asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“After which victim,” he clarified. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you got it” She picked up the phone and started dialing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’re you thinking?” Morgan asked Gideon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He wasn’t getting enough attention.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The police departments sometimes don’t even realize they’re looking at a pattern,” Spencer said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Morgan agreed. “Until somebody tells ‘em.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>JJ looked over, the phone still pressed against her ear. “The first story ran the morning after the fourth victim was found.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgan read over the case file, “The increased patrols didn’t begin until after the fourth victim, either.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, the police didn’t realize what was happening, he writes his verse-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And everyone knows that he was there.” Spencer finished for Gideon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hotch and Elle walked up. “The offender in this new attempt is a black male,” he told them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Black male?” Morgan asked. “Cross racial - that doesn’t happen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about Herbert Millin?” Spencer asked. “He killed 14 people of completely varying ages, races, and creeds.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But there was no sexual component to his crimes,” Elle interjected.  “And he wore a ski mask. This attacker wore a ski mask.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell ‘em we’re ready,” Gideon said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For our profile?” Morgan asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re gonna make Tommy contact us.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“The FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit was called in yesterday afternoon by the San Diego Police Department to assist in the ongoing Tommy Killer investigation,” JJ spoke to the cameras in front of her. “The Unit is headed-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cars blazing sirens pull in front of the precinct. Morgan grabs a large black man and pulls him out of the car, leading into the precinct. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you the Tommy Killer?” a reporter asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>JJ continued with the conference like nothing was happening.  “I can now announce that our office has assisted in making an arrest in connection with the investigation. That’s all I can say at this time.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>JJ walked up to Hotch, entering after Morgan and Elle who were dragging into the attempted-rapist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Should just make the 11:00 news,” she told him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did they get good footage?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, couldn’t miss him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” said Gideon, who was standing in front of the case board. “Now we wait.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Go for Ms. Penelope Garcia.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ready with the trap and trace?” JJ asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Peaches, this is the office of unmitigated superiority. I am always ready. With the awesome power I have in this room, all I need is 15 seconds on the phone to nail this skeevy perv.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“15 seconds?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If that.”</span>
  </em>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>“God, I hate waiting like this” Elle groaned. Spencer sat beside her, fiddling with a Rubix cube.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think it’s weird that I knew that ballad?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scoffed, “I don’t know how it is that you know half the things you know, but I’m glad you do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer looked up from the cube, have just solved it. “Do you think it’s why I can’t get a date?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You ever ask anyone out?” Elle asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer thought for a moment, “No.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s why you can’t get a date.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The telephone rang. Detective Martin picked it up. Suddenly, he stood up, waving for everyone’s attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Line 6, Penelope,” JJ said into the phone, “Line 6.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You stupid, incompetent sons of bitches!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Tommy Killer yelled through the phone. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t make mistakes! I am Death! You hear me?! I am Death! You’ll see now. Tomorrow. Mark my words, you will see. And while I’m taking her, I’m gonna be thinking of you.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He hung up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anything?” JJ asked Garcia. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you kidding me? I don’t know how this is possible because there was definitely enough time for me to get a location, but I got nothing.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She told JJ. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I got absolutely nothing. Let me work on this.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>JJ looked up at the rest of the team. “She said she got nothing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing?” Morgan asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hotch looked over, “We missed him?”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Spencer and Morgan sat in a red car, watching the houses around them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgan sighed. “It’s 10:30 already.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All he said was tomorrow, he didn’t… specify morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Reid, this guy’s gotta spend a lot of time in that house,” he looked over. “A lot. He needs it to be morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer turned and looked out the rear window before looking over to Morgan. “Are we sure this is a good spot?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“3 of the victims lived within a block of this street. It’s the main artery through the neighborhood.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True, but 3 victims in the same block could mean he’s done with the area.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or that he’s just really familiar with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And comfortable in it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a moment, Morgan spoke up again. “But then, on the other hand, the other victims lived more than a mile in either direction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Spencer confirmed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgan hit the steering wheel, his jaw clenched. “God, I hate not having a plan.” He looked over to Spencer. “We’re looking for a needle in a haystack here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, it’s more like we’re looking for a needle in a pile of needles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgan looked over, “What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A needle would stand out in a haystack.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morgan chuckled, “Okay. And we’re not looking for someone who stands out?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, we’re looking for a particular needle in a pile of needles.” Spencer raised the binoculars to his eyes, looking through them, trying to find the needle. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>Spencer followed Morgan into San Diego Bell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“FBI,” Morgan flashed his badge. “I need to know where one of your technicians is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“FBI?” The man at the front desk asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are your technicians?” Spencer asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re all out in the field.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen!” Morgan slammed his fist against the desk. “I need Franklin Graney right now.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>On the plane ride back to Quantico, after Franklin was arrested, Spencer and Gideon were playing a game of chess. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Gideon said, reaching into his bag. “I almost forgot. I have something for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Forgot to give it to you at the party,” he handed over a small blue box. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you don’t give birthday presents.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gideon just shrugged. Spencer pulled on the string, untying it. He opened the box to find: “Wow. The: “Red...Skins.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a V.I.P. Box,” Gideon informed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow,” Spencer took out the two tickets. “Thank you so much.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ever been to a pro football game?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Spencer laughed. “I honestly didn’t even know this was football.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna love it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We are, you’re coming with me, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Gideon shook his head. “Someone else on the plane is a huge Skins fan.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer furrowed his eyebrows, “Who?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The only person in the world who calls you “Spence.” “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer smiled, feeling his neck grow warm. “JJ?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gideon nodded. “She’s a huge Redskins fan.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer turned, looking back at the blonde woman. He looked back at Gideon. “Wh-What should I say?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gideon just looked at him. Spencer gave a breathy laugh and started to stand. But he doubled back, first moving his chess piece forward.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Checkmate,” he told Gideon. He stood and walked back towards JJ. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spencer sat in the seat next to her, his knees pointed towards hers. “I, uh, I heard you’re a fan of football.” He sent one last glance at Gideon before looking back at JJ. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah.” She smiled. “I am.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>JJ was confused. Spence had just sat down next to her on the plane and handed her own V.I.P. Redskins ticket, asking if she wanted to go with him. She heard Morgan’s snicker and she saw Hotch’s smile, and she immediately knew what Spence was trying to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” she answered. Because why not? Spence was nice and cute and even if it didn’t work out, it could be fun. Tickets like that don’t come often enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spence gave a large, toothy smile and JJ didn’t regret saying yes for a moment.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>They had met at the stadium, JJ in Redskins merch and Spence in a buttoned-up shirt under a sweater. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you wearing?” she asked, laughing at his extremely fancy appearance for a football game. Spence frowned, looking down at his ironed slacks and a nice sweater.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” he asked. JJ just laughed, dragging him through the ticket line and up to a store. She used her own money to buy him a Redskins t-shirt that was two sizes too big. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” she told him. “Now take off the sweater.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spence furrowed his eyebrows but did as she said. She handed over the shirt and he shrugged it on. It rested mid-thigh and was hilariously larger than JJ expected</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What size did you get me?” he asked, grabbing the end of the shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know your size-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you got me an Extra Large?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>JJ laughed, “It’s okay. Just tuck in the end into your pants and pull your collar over the edge.” He did as she said. The back of the shirt still hung very low, but the front looked alright. With his collar pulled over the shirt, he looked very Dr. Reid still, which was nice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, now popcorn.” She said, grabbing his arm and pulling him along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t we have to go to our seats first?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, you get popcorn first, so you don’t have to get back up.” She looked back. ‘Also, Gideon got us one of the best seats in the stadium, we don’t need to worry about other people stealing it, you need to show your tickets to get in.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spence just sighed but met JJ’s pace. They got a large popcorn and two sodas. Spence also bought a box of milk duds for himself. He offered to get JJ some, but she refused. She didn’t like how they stuck to her teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat down in the V.I.P. box, having a perfect view of the field. Spence sat there terribly confused, his eyebrows knitted together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I read the rule book before I came, but it’s harder to understand in person,” he said. JJ couldn’t help but laugh, that was a classic move for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” she pointed a the field. “You see the person standing behind the line of players…”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>They left the stadium laughing and giggling. JJ had a great time, actually. It was strange seeing Spence out in the world like this. In her mind, he always just existed in the FBI. They stopped at the parking lot, their cars being on opposite sides.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This was fun,” she told him. Spence gave another large toothy smile. No, she didn’t regret saying yes at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great, that’s, uh, great.” he stammered. JJ suddenly felt guilty. He heard how Morgan was talking to him that day at work, how Hotch clapped him on the back before he left. They had thought this was a date, maybe even convinced Spence that it was, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spence,” he said. “I really did have fun, but I just want to be friends, okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blushed and cleared his throat, “Yeah!” he squeaked before clearing his throat again. “Yeah, no worries.” He smiled at her, a smaller smile but she liked seeing it nevertheless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great,” she said. “You’re a really great guy Spence. Whoever you do end up with is lucky to have you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spence nodded. JJ opened her arms out, “Hug ?” she asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spence nodded and wrapped her up in a large hug. She felt his arms squeeze against her back and thought that he definitely was the best hugger that she has ever met. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And JJ drove home with a large smile on her face. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hope you enjoyed. and i told you all that it was going to be a slowburn. I'm trying to write it so it doesn't stray too much from canon :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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